


Alternate Reprise: Details of Revenge

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Series: Details Multiverse [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Dismemberment, Aftermath of Eye Trauma, Aftermath of Gelding, Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Body Horror, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Panic Attack, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 18:26:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15588024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: Obi-Wan survived a brutal attack by Grievous, and must come to terms with what it's left him. Anakin's here to help. Or just freak out. Either.





	Alternate Reprise: Details of Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> Extra Content Warning: Obi-Wan wishes he'd died. Obi-Wan resents the thought of metal limbs. He's angry at just about everything, and he's experiencing an emotional disconnect from Anakin.
> 
> Other Things: What? Another AU of Details? Yes. What on earth would make you think I would be content with just one AU of it...?

He wasn't alone when he awoke.

A hoarse cry tore from his throat as he realized he hadn't died, felt the massive numbing of drugs, felt the pain that slipped through their protective barrier.

He felt a desperate need to rip the bandages from his eyes, a panic that clawed at his throat—

But it wouldn't do any good, because there was nothing  _ there  _ anymore. He wouldn't be able to see.

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin's voice.

Anakin, who'd watched all of this happen to him. Who'd been too far away to help him. Who'd apparently found him and rescued him.

_ I must have passed out. _

Or shock had left him unaware of his surroundings.

“Try not to move, Obi-Wan. He broke most of the bones in your body.”

Obi-Wan tried to breathe shallow, since every expansion of his lungs  _ hurt. _

“Can you hear me?”

“Didn't take my ears.” They were about the only thing.

Metal fingers brushed his cheek and he yanked his head away, pulse thundering in his skull, terror seizing him.

“ _ Force,  _ Obi-Wan, I'm sorry, it's okay, it's okay, it's only me!”

Hyperventilating, perhaps from the newly awakened pain, definitely because of the utter panic claiming him, Obi-Wan tried to move and found he couldn't.

He  _ did  _ find more pain.

“Please,  _ please  _ stop struggling,” Anakin pleaded, not touching him again, pouring as much reassurance into the Force as he could manage in his own emotionally shattered state. “It's Anakin, I won't hurt you, I'm here—”

Obi-Wan focused on breathing, tried to turn his focus away from the fact that he  _ couldn't move,  _ couldn't  _ see,  _ couldn't fight back, couldn't—

A low whine in the back of his throat had Anakin nearly frantic.

“You're okay. You're okay,” Anakin promised.

Lies.

_ “Lie still, Padawan.” _

It felt like Qui-Gon's voice. It stilled his body even while his mind thrashed. Obedience. Qui-Gon wasn't here, but Obi-Wan's instinctive response to him was  _ still  _ obedience.

The fear burned humiliating and debilitating in his throat. Tears formed, dampening the bandages—

He cried out again as they rolled into his empty eye sockets. “ _ Burns— _ ”

“What does?” Anakin demanded.

Obi-Wan fought to overcome them— “Tears,” he groaned.

“Kark, oh, kark— don't cry. Don't cry. You're going to be okay. We're going to make it through this—”

“Stop,” Obi-Wan interrupted. “Just don't.”

His muscles went slack against the bed even as he reached into the Force to take inventory of himself.

Just a brush against his body had his mind recoiling in horror.

“You should have killed me,” Obi-Wan whispered.

He could hear Anakin shift in his chair. “You're going to make it through this.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan asked, the word almost a sob.

Anakin paused, and when he spoke, his voice was unsteady and vulnerable. “Because we need you still.  _ I  _ need you still.”

Obi-Wan felt the welcome drag of unconsciousness and surrendered gladly.

The only downside was that sometime or other he was going to have to wake up again.

 

* * *

 

When consciousness came back, it came with a bit more clarity this time. Obi-Wan could taste the bacta in his mouth, feel the film it left on his skin.

He lifted a hand to his face, but he felt no contact. He lifted his arm further, and finally felt a bandage bump into his cheek.

A wrongly shaped bandage.

He shivered as he  _ remembered,  _ remembered Grievous taking his hands, then more of his forearms for good measure, taking his feet, then more and more of his legs—

The panic returned.

How much was gone? How much—

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin's voice was low, groggy.

Obi-Wan couldn't manage to answer.

“Hey.” The voice cleared. “I don't know where I can touch you.”

Fighting the feeling of being tied down and trapped with impending disaster approaching, Obi-Wan forced his own voice to be steady. He almost succeeded. “I don't know either. Just don't— don't  _ restrain  _ me— and— not the face.”

Anakin struggled with those parameters, trying to find something that wouldn't make him feel held down. “Can I try your shoulder?”  
“I'd rather you didn't.”

“But you're hurt everywhere else.”

Obi-Wan choked a laugh. “I'm sorry, Anakin.”

“I just...” Anakin hesitated. “I need you to know you're not alone. I'm going to try your leg, okay?” A gentle weight pressed against Obi-Wan's thigh.

Obi-Wan waited for the desperate need to escape to hit— but it seemed manageable— “Okay.”

“Um, the wound in your gut, they've patched it up, and you're out of danger.”

Obi-Wan remembered the carving heat of the saber as it took him out. “Not as mortal as Grievous claimed?”

“Oh, it  _ was. _ The healers— a couple of them are going to have to take leave and rest. They nearly burned themselves out saving you.”

_ Shouldn't have bothered. _

When Obi-Wan didn't respond, Anakin continued. “The broken bones are all set, and mostly healed, thanks to bacta. So are the burns. They reconstructed your knees and elbows.”  
“I don't seem to have any appendages.” Obi-Wan sensed the pained hitch in Anakin's breathing. “Fake ones, I mean. No fake ones.”

“They... wanted to consult with you before... giving you hands and legs.”

“Consent. They want consent.”  _ They didn't ask for consent to make this drag on forever. _

“And... for your eyes, too.”

_ Force, is there any of me left?  _ “How much? How much of my legs and arms did he take?”

“Um... well...” Anakin sounded worried. “Bit under the knee, both sides. Bit under the elbows.”

Obi-Wan could feel the tight skin of healing saber burns across his torso. They were going to leave scars, no doubt, bubbled, vicious things.

The joints that had been crushed and rebuilt ached. He wondered if they would hurt forever.

“So are you going to let them do it?”

“Do what?”

“Give you replacement limbs.”

“I don't know.”  
“But you don't— you can't—”

“Yes, how  _ are  _ you going to end that sentence?” Obi-Wan growled.

Anakin's hand pulled away, then returned, determined not to be rebuffed. “Why would you say no? You're so determined to be independent, I would have thought you'd say yes in a heartbeat.”

_ I don't want to be here. _

“To have as much metal as flesh?” Obi-Wan bit the inside of his cheek. “To become...  _ droid _ ?”

“It's not that much,” Anakin promised. “So much is still you. You won't be a  _ droid. _ ”

“No? I've seen what it's done to Maul. How it's destroyed his brain.”

Anakin shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “I don't think it's the new legs that made him go crazy, Obi-Wan. Maybe... maybe losing the originals did, but the fact the new ones are metal shouldn't— I mean, it's  _ not _ the problem.”

“They want to put fake eyes in my head. I won't be  _ seeing.  _ Not—  _ really _ . Computer images funneled into my brain? Interpretations of what  _ you're  _ supposed to be? What does a computer know of what you  _ really  _ are, Anakin? Why—?”

“I don't know what cybernetic eyes are like. But— there's Wolffe. There's Tholme. I can ask them to come so you can talk to them about it. They can tell you if it's really that bad, and then you can make your decision.”

Obi-Wan didn't really want to talk to them. “Your hand, Anakin.”

“Yes?”

“How bad is it?”

“The what? The phantom pain, or—”

“Knowledge that something dead is attached to you, that you can never really be free of it.”

“I don't—  _ see  _ it that way,” Anakin murmured. “It felt foreign at first. It hurt for a while, sometimes I still think my hand hurts, or I can feel Dooku's saber cutting, but... this arm isn't— it's  _ part  _ of me now, Obi-Wan. Sure, it wasn't there before, but it's  _ my  _ hand, all the same.”

“Do you ever regret it?”

Anakin squeezed his leg. “No. To be able to fight with two hands, to be able to work on droids the way I used to, to be able to love—” Anakin's words fumbled, “—ingly put together droids—”

“ _ Force,  _ Anakin, do you think me an idiot?”

“What? No, of course not, how could you think—”

Obi-Wan huffed out a sigh, Anakin's fear of discovery feeling so unimportant in this moment. “Just carry on.”

“It's your choice, Obi-Wan, but you want to  _ do  _ things for yourself. You've always been like that. Do you want to walk? It's... maybe it seems like a little thing, and if you choose no, I will make sure you get the  _ best  _ hoverchair, but... you're active. You'll  _ miss  _ it, when it's gone. And... with your hands... you would miss being able to take care of yourself. Unless you choose to go with ancient tech which just straps to you, you're going to have to turn over almost everything to a helper. A nurse of some sort.”

There was silence for a moment.

“And... given your panic attack when I touched your face... I think you're going to find independence very important in the next few months. The knowledge that you could defend yourself.”

“Because that worked out  _ so well  _ last time,” Obi-Wan hissed.

This time, Anakin didn't flinch. “You're not angry with me.”

No? If the childish moron kept  _ talking,  _ Obi-Wan thought for  _ sure  _ he—

_ What is this?  _ He felt trembling begin in his reduced body.  _ I've never felt such  _ disgust  _ for Anakin before. He's my Padawan. How—? _

But he just wanted Anakin  _ gone,  _ out—

Didn't want to hear his voice, feel his touch—

“Is there a catheter in?” Obi-Wan asked. “I'm numb, except for a general knowledge of pain.”

“Yeah.”

“At least I don't have to worry about getting up to go to the refresher and undoing all the hard work the bacta's been doing,” Obi-Wan muttered, sarcasm dripping from his words.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin sounded young. Afraid. “I get it.”  
“You really don't.”

“You're scared. Your autonomy got taken away, you were hurt terribly, and there was nothing you or any of the rest of us could do about it—”

He could feel Grievous' cold, metal hands around his throat again, crushing the resistance out of him— the terror was returning—

“And you're embarrassed, because you can take care of yourself, but this happened anyway. And because... because of what he did to you. You're doubting your manhood—”

Obi-Wan snorted a bitter laugh. “There isn't any left. Or were you  _ not  _ watching?”

“That's not what makes a man, Obi-Wan.”

“I  _ know  _ that,” Obi-Wan snapped. “That doesn't take away thousands of years of prejudice and...  _ programming.  _ I'm worse than a eunuch, I have  _ nothing _ , Force, I need a fripping  _ tube  _ to  _ urinate— _ ”

“That doesn't make you any less of a person,” Anakin protested.

Obi-Wan bared his teeth. “Easy for you to say. Standing there on the outside, with no real danger of it happening to you.”

“I know the man who raised me. Who stood up for men the world wanted to insist were female. Who accepted them, no matter what  _ wasn't  _ in their pants. You have been terribly mutilated, nobody's going to deny that. But you're still a Jedi Master. The best practitioner of Soresu alive. You raised a child single-handed to adulthood in spite of being little more than child yourself at the time. And you're a survivor.”

“No.” Obi-Wan shook his head, not caring about the ache it caused. “I'm really not.”

“You're alive, right now, and you're fighting.” As Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest, Anakin cut him off. “You're fighting  _ me  _ at the moment. It'd be helpful if you fought to get through this  _ instead,  _ but you  _ are fighting.  _ The hallmark of a survivor.”

“Frip you.”

“You're afraid, you're embarrassed, you're in pain, and the future looks very different from what you'd dreamed until now. Things are going to be different. It looks like a lot of work, you're afraid you won't find a way to be happy, you're afraid your chances are completely gone. But it's not  _ true,  _ Obi-Wan. You may have been forced onto a different path than the one you initially traveled, but you can still make it  _ your  _ path.”

“Shut up.”

“Please.”

“I said shut up. Get the frip out of here.  _ Go. _ ”

The hand vanished from his leg, and hesitant footsteps edged for the door.

And then Obi-Wan heard the scrape of metal somewhere down the hall and gasped in a horrified breath. He pressed a bandaged stump to his lips, trying to muffle the keen of fear the escaped him as his body trembled and his mind went blank with terror—

“Grievous isn't here, I  _ swear  _ it,” Anakin cried, racing to his side. A hand lightly pushed into his shoulder. “I  _ promise  _ you're safe now. I  _ promise. _ ”

Obi-Wan dragged in oxygen, but it didn't feel like enough. Mortified at his own helplessness and panic, Obi-Wan struggled not to let any more tears form, knowing they would cause more  _ pain— _

“I'm here,” Anakin murmured. “You're safe.”

“Don't leave,” Obi-Wan whispered, the fear all through his voice. “I'm— defenseless, and—  _ frip—  _ oh,  _ Force,  _ Anakin—”

“I won't leave,” Anakin swore, all compassion and gentleness. “I'm here, and I will  _ not  _ leave you. I'm going to protect you, and you are  _ not  _ alone. You will  _ never  _ be alone as long as I live.”

“Help me,” Obi-Wan pleaded, near inaudible. “Anakin, it's—”

A hand gently caressed his hair.

Anakin was right.

His entire world had been shattered, and he didn't have the courage or the strength to pick up the pieces. He was too tired, too afraid, too burned. Life looked foreign and cruel and like far,  _ far  _ too much effort, given it was no longer aimed in the direction he'd envisioned. 

“I can't,” he choked. “Help me.”

“I will. In every way you need. Always.”  
Obi-Wan wanted to grab his hand and squeeze...

But that was no longer something he could do.

 


End file.
